


I've Got a Crush On You

by QuietlyAnonForThis



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, If AU can have canon?, Inspired by Something Stupid, Jon and Dany are dog people, Modern AU, Pining, Smol beans in love, So sweet it will induce diabetes, Why Did I Write This?, but not canon, so sweet it will give you cavities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:14:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24576640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietlyAnonForThis/pseuds/QuietlyAnonForThis
Summary: Dany has the work project from hell and Jon provides a Get Out Of Jail Free card. An AU for the AU Something Stupid universe.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 46
Kudos: 114





	I've Got a Crush On You

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the Gershwin song, sung by Frank Sinatra.
> 
> I was cleaning out my google docs and it had slipped my mind that I had written this early in quarantine. Lights graciously agreed that I could share this with ya'll. This is just my playing in the Something Stupid sandbox when I was in a major rom com mood (While You Were Sleeping for those playing the home game). This is a big ball of nothing, but sometimes nothing is fun, at least for me.
> 
> Anyone who has read the story it was inspired by: this vignette takes place after Jon runs into Dany at the grocery store, but before he makes dinner for her (while she is helping Tyrion fire Ramsey). For those of you who haven't, roll with it I guess? 
> 
> I thought maybe someone out there in Jonerys land could use a little hopeless romantic fluff with zero angst, zero revenge, zero fix it, zero pain. These are challenging times, Jonerys fam. Be good to each other and be good to yourselves :) 
> 
> Special thanks to Katie for beta reading :mwah:

Dany knew she was in trouble as soon as she found the sticky note.

“SEE BOX 2C” had been stuck to the binder divider tab labeled “Annual Employee Reviews.” When Tyrion told her Olenna had left a binder outlining major HR functions, Dany had assumed he meant actual instructions, a guidebook of sorts.

Her bad.

After several late nights dumping out drawers and examining several years of spreadsheets and correspondence, Dany decided the crusty old bird had been winging it. She had taken a decidedly old school approach to her job, refusing to digitize most of her work and steadfastly resisted software shortcuts. This should hardly be surprising: Tyrion “hired” Olenna “Queen of Thorns” Tyrell when he’d acquired a majority stake in their Highgarden wine business--it was part of the cost of doing business. Competency hadn’t been part of the equation.

Never had her failure to modernize become more noticeable than when Shae sent Dany a reminder that Tyrion would be starting the preliminary employee performance reviews the first week of October. Had Olenna simply entered the information as the departments fed it to her, Dany was sure she could’ve figured it out quickly. However, Dany had to first LOCATE the information and organize it in a way that answered Tyrion’s questions.

Hunched over piles of paper fanned out on the floor behind her desk, she shoved her note taking pencil behind one ear and removed a highlighter from where it was slotted above the other. Her shoulders ached from hunching over files for so many hours. Could she bring in a massage therapist and justify the cost as a HR morale initiative? Sometimes, like now, she knelt, sometimes she sat cross-legged and at least once she laid back on the floor to stare at the ceiling in a dumb stupor, wondering why what looked like chewed gum appeared to be stuck on the tiles. Maybe this had been a psych ward.

“Olenna really fucked you with this, didn’t she?”

An involuntary smile curved her lips, and she looked up to see Jon leaning against her door frame, tie loosened, khakis and button down a bit rumpled, curls threatening to escape his topknot. Yum.…. She blinked a few times, trying to string together a coherent thought. Right. Work.

Dany mustered an amused chuckle, admonishing her libido to take a cold shower.

He took a few steps and squatted down in front of her piles, giving them a cursory glance. “Her revenge on Tyrion for _encouraging_ her to take early retirement.”

“I’m beginning to think this is why Tyrion forced her into early retirement,” Dany said, rocking back on her heels. “I’m never going to get home tonight. You have a cot I could borrow down there in the dungeon?

“There is an admin pool. Make them help you. They always seem to be loitering around and having ridiculous computer problems.”

Dany studied him, continually amazed that he really had no clue how insanely attractive he was. For a moment she considered tattling on the flock of harpies who summoned him upstairs ostensibly to fix their broken desktops when it was actually a weak sauce excuse for ass gazing. She didn’t, however, want to answer any questions that might arise from her revelation. She sighed, then slumped. “There is a lot of confidential information in here, the least of it being compensation. Other stuff too—harassment complaints, disciplinary stuff on the way to someone being fired—"

“Anything interesting about me?”

“Hmmm.” _That you won’t date co-workers_ _…? “_ Nah. Only that Tyrion refused to add a nursing home rider to the healthcare plan and suggested one of those emergency alert buttons instead. You know, the you’ve—"

“—fallen and you can’t get up?” he finished for her. “Ha. Ha. Ha.” He took a deep breath, cocking his head. “Hey. Doesn’t Hedwig need a walk?”

“She’s still at doggie daycare. Assuming her sitter hasn’t surrendered her to the Humane Society. The woman makes couture clothes for her Chihuahuas. Hedwig made lunch out of one of their fur coats.” Dany winced, remembering the sitter’s outrage as she deposited a wad of chewed up hot pink rabbit fur into her purse. “Hedwig was hardly penitent about it either.”

Jon threw his head back and laughed and Dany couldn’t help laughing too. As handsome as he was, smiles transformed his face, his beauty stirring an unfamiliar—but not unwelcome—longing.

He smirked. “Naturally the little lass wasn’t sorry. She would hardly be Hedwig if she was.”

Something deep inside her relaxed at Jon’s words, by the confirmation that he was paying attention to the mundane details of her life, that he _knew_ her and being known felt like everything.

“Say, Dany. Why not put this away for the night. Jailbreak Hedwig and let’s meet up at our usual spot. There’s an off-leash area that Her Majesty might like. It’s supposed to rain later—better that you wear her out before she’s cooped up.”

“But—” she glanced sideways at the piles and papers fanned out on the floor.

He shook his head. “I’ll help you tomorrow. We have software that can make this a lot simpler. The two of us can make quick work of this shitshow.”

Oooooooo the impulse to grab him by the collar and drag him into a kiss hit hard. Attributing the thought to paperwork induced delirium, she pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth and twisted her lips as she pretended to consider his offer. “I’m in,” she said finally, wondering if her face revealed her transparent joy at his suggestion.

*****

Thankfully Jon hadn’t given her a lot of time to overthink about what to wear to the dog park. The question of what to wear to the “accidental” meeting at the grocery store had consumed at least an hour of taking off and on athleisure outfits until she decided on the red and black sporty-sexy ensemble she ended up wearing. Tonight, she lacked the luxury of indecisiveness. Hedwig’s sitter had chewed her ear off complaining about the tiny terror commandeering the chihuahuas’ sun lounger. She barely had enough time to wash her face and pull some joggers and a university hoodie out of a drawer before racing down the street to “their” park bench. _We have a park bench_ , she thought gleefully.

Jon, as per normal, wore jeans and navy-blue pea coat, that definitely brought out the steely oceanic undertones in his eyes. A burgundy cable knit scarf thrown casually around his neck finished the ensemble. Avoiding having to look at him too closely while they walked fortified her self-control; he smelled so good and he looked so good that no one could fault her if she climbed him like a stripper pole…and clearly her rational brain had been turned off, a state of affairs that needed immediate fixing.

At this mid-evening hour, the fenced off leash area was virtually empty. Only an elderly gentleman playing fetch with a Labrador used the large dog field. The tiny dog area was unoccupied.

Jon cracked the gate, and throwing a meaningful look to Hedwig said, “Your kingdom, m’lady.”

Hedwig raised her head high and trotted onto the gravel waiting area.

Dany closed the gate behind them. “You’re giving her airs, Jon. She’ll be kicking me out of my bed next.”

“I’ve got a sleeping bag you can borrow,” he said drily.

.....a _nd how about an invitation to a slumber party at your house?_ She wanted to tease. “Don’t enable her.” Hedwig butted Dany’s shin a few times as if she knew they were talking about her. “Patience, your grace,” she said, dropping to one knee and unclipping the leash.

Laughing, Jon bent down to release Ghost from his lead.

Hedwig waited and whined, bouncing from paw to paw in a doggie dance.

“Go on you two! Off with you both!” he waved them on.

Ghost trotted off with Hedwig following close behind, nipping at his knees.

Jon jerked his head in the direction of a bench, his hands shoved in his coat pockets.

For her part, Dany raised her jacket hoodie and shivered, realizing that she was going to have to up her game when it came to cold weather gear. She hugged herself, rubbing her upper arms trying to get a bit of warmth in her hands.

“You have to be joking, Dany,” he smirked, as they took up places on the bench, positioned at mirror angles so they could better see each other. “I’ve taken baths colder than this.”

Glaring at him good naturedly, Dany tucked a bent leg under her opposite knee and sat on a foot, curling into herself to better stay warm. “If I could move my fingers, I would flip you off,” she said with a terse chuckle

“Here,” he said, reaching behind his neck, to take hold of his scarf. Rising up on a knee, he leaned over to drape the fluffy wool around her neck. “Can’t have you freezing to death before employee reviews are done—"

Caught off guard, she froze. willing her limbs to stay still, dammit, she didn’t want him to misread her. This was not every nerve in her body firing excitedly at the prospect of Jon touching her, and then she was pleading with her heart to stop pounding because she was certain he would hear the thumping as he drew closer. A humiliating state of affairs HE WAS BEING NICE DAMMIT. He was simply being kind to his work friend. But having him so close that she could reach up and trace the scar on his cheek, could smell his skin, see the soft spring of his curls brushing his shoulders...

He made jokes about her cold intolerance when his knuckles touched her sweatshirt. As he adjusted the scarf’s opposite sides to be more parallel, his teeth worried his lower lip. Gazes glanced off each other—holding for a long moment; Dany swore she saw an ember flare and heat, before he quickly looked away.

She swallowed hard and tried to pull a witty retort from her racing thoughts but found her mouth inexplicably dry and every cell in her body thrumming with awareness.

Jon fiddled with his glasses “So give me the good dirt from Olenna’s files. What’s the deal with Stannis and Mel?”

Relief—or disappointment—suffusing her, Dany grinned.

***

Dany only had to put Hedwig in time out once. When a pair of dainty cocker spaniels joined the mix, Hedwig acted like they were members of a rival gang invading their turf. At that point, Dany called it a night, hustling the group of them out into the park as soon as she captured Hedwig—it took some doing: Hedwig relished the chase. There would be no street fights in the dog park on her watch.

By this point, the sun had set and her stomach, long denied sustenance, growled embarrassingly loudly. Jon merely raised an eyebrow and said, “Dinner?” gesturing in the direction of the food truck pods.

So they talked as they strolled through street lamp puddles of light and shadow and as they queued up for Dornish flatbread sandwiches, They only paused from conversation to order their meals; however that escalated quickly into a contest as to who could handle the hottest of hot sauces—the Valayrian Volcano. Neither backed down. They faced off on opposite sides of a wooden picnic table. In truth Dany couldn’t see how Jon was managing because her glasses had fogged up from her watering eyes; her snotty nose dripped down flaming cheeks and her lips were too numb to form words. A few gags and a cough grabbed her attention—he wasn’t choking so that was good. She removed her glasses to swipe at her eyes and witnessed Jon chugging a bottle of milk, allowing it to spill over his scarlet cheeks.

“I canth fel my thung,” he explained wiping the milk drool with his coat sleeve. “Buth I finithed!”

Dany groaned, burying her head in her hands. “I didn’t.”

Jon pumped his arms over his head, victoriously. “This calths for isth cream. Lother buyth.”

Hedwig’s ears perked up when she heard “isth cream” and cheerily trotted beside Dany on her way to the White Walker Ice Cream truck. He ordered a dark chocolate fudge sundae with all the toppings; she ordered a salted caramel sundae with all the toppings. Halfway through, they swapped dishes

Dany sat with her chin resting on her knees, feet on the bench. She bent down and gave Hedwig her empty ice cream bowl to lick clean. Ghost whined in protest until Jon followed suit. They sat in companionable silence watching their dogs attack the essentially empty bowls with gusto. Dany began regaling Jon with the story of the most ridiculous thing Hedwig had ever eaten; she leaned back allowing her hand to drop off her knee on its way to her pocket. But funnily enough, her knuckles brushed his on the way to her pocket and a peculiar paralysis set in. Her hand hung helplessly there at her side, feeling heat radiating off his hand.

Jon laughed and countered her tale with one of his own and still his hand remained beside hers as if he too might be reluctant to move. Until his fidgeting thumb began tapping the nail of each of the other fingers of his hand, a nervous tic she recognized from their many lunches together. The slightest whisper of accidental touch found her: a pad of his finger—the glide of a fingernail against her skin. And she heard a sharp intake of his breath so quiet it might have been a rustle of leaves.

She reminded herself to breathe.

Later, when she laid in her bed, watching tree shadows marbling her bedroom walls, and listening to the rain, she couldn’t fathom how she managed to calmly continue carrying on that conversation. As if his hand wasn’t brushing hers—as if their shoulders weren’t flush together, sitting hip to hip as if this occasion was utterly ordinary. Just a couple of dog parents commiserating over the adorable ridiculousness of their pets.

But should a judge question Daenerys Targaryen, Esq., barrister extraordinaire, about that moment she would be incapable of recalling a single word Jon Snow had said. In that pinprick of time, no reality existed save the briefest second when his finger curled around hers. In the space of a heartbeat it ended, leaving behind only a ghost of touch.

She must have imagined it.

She rolled onto her back, spanned her hands over the bare skin of her ribs—her belly—imagining his hands. Slow. Steady. Breathe in. Breathe out. Night hid the truth of it. Allowed her dream to live for a little longer.


End file.
